Why Glomgold's Evil Scheme is a Colossal Failure Waiting to Happen
by cresselia8themoon
Summary: Oneshot. Glomgold tries to carry out his evil scheme to kill Beaks. The key word being tries.


_I love Glomgold's hammy speeches in the Mark Beaks episode! So the real question is, what happens afterward? This isn't a serious fic._

* * *

"AT LAST!" Glomgold proclaimed triumphantly, settling into the cushy chair behind the security camera footage. "That imbecile Beaks fell for my devious and brilliant trap! Now, time to enjoy the emotional distress on his STUPID face as it slowly dawns on his tiny birdbrain that there is no billionaire's convention aboard the yacht! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

He abruptly stood up, throwing his arms into the air as he laughed maniacally. Then the chair tipped over, sending him crashing to the ground.

(Glomgold sadly lacked the common sense to not make declarations of destroying enemies while standing on rolling chairs.)

Glomgold dusted himself off, unfazed. "In a few hours, we shall be settling on my private jet so we can personally greet him at Krakatoa and watch him die together! Wouldn't that be grand, Scroogie, er, I think you were number 187?"

The Scrooge dummy, which was just a log with a top hat, googly eyes, and featherduster cheeks, remained silent in the corner of the room.

Beaks walked into the third camera's view, though he seemed more interested in the blasted device in his hand than the yacht taking him to his doom. Glomgold pulled Scrooge #187 to his side, so he could also revel in the inevitable despair that would slowly consume the upstart billionaire.

It was a good thing he invested in audio that could detect a pin dropping within a five mile radius.

"Aha! The yacht where the billionaire's convention takes place!" Beaks exclaimed, turning to face the opposite direction. He held his phone up to the sky at arm's length, an obnoxious grin on his face. "Awesomesauce!"

"Yes, enjoy your simple pleasures while you still can," Glomgold growled. "It will be so much more delicious when you taste the soul-crushing reality of your isolation! Wait, what are you doing?" Beaks stopped every few steps up the ramp while raising his phone and doing…something.

Something that was obviously not the face of an enemy realizing they'd been tricked and sent on a one way to ticket to their demise.

"Taking so many of these I gotta tag it with something new! Uh, yacht selfie. Nah, not catchy enough," Beaks murmured to himself. "Billionaire boat bash? C'mon, better. Aha! Livin' it yacht style! Perfect!"

"Just. Get. On. The. Yacht," Glomgold snarled. "He's worse than you when it comes to holdin' up plans!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Scrooge #187.

He loved it when Scrooge wasn't able to make a cutting remark.

A nearby phone rang, and Glomgold quickly picked it up. "Glomgold, the target is currently on the ramp taking selfies. He doesn't suspect a thing," the henchman on the other end said. "However, he appears to be taking an obscene amount of time coming up the ramp. Can I have clearance to shove him on the deck?"

"I can see that," Glomgold muttered, glancing at the feed. There was a large, muscular henchman disguised as a seaman waiting on the deck, tapping his foot as he watched Beaks slowly ascend the ramp while taking selfies. "Permission granted. Show him where the buffet is, but after that no further contact. I want him to learn how gloomy isolation can be while tossing and turning on the seven seas! Will that be all?"

"Well there's an issue with my pay I'd like to discuss-"

Glomgold grabbed a stack of papers and threw them everywhere, kicking a cabinet and scattering various knickknacks. "I can't hear you! Ah, Scrooge has found me! He appears to be overpowering me! Oh no, I am defeated! Curses! He ripped my favorite kilt and said my bagpipes sound like a great-grandmother's funeral! Talk to you some other time!"

He hung up, sighing in relief. Talk about a close one.

The henchman lifted Beaks by his jacket and dropped him roughly on the deck. "Yo! Where my fellow rich peeps at?" Beaks greeted, not even looking up from his phone. "No offense man, but the hat makes you look like a peasant. Not even worth a Snapchat filter."

The henchman cleared his throat. "They're…hiding somewhere."

Beaks nodded. "Cool, cool. So I bet they're throwing a surprise party, huh? Say, what's the wifi password on board?"

"Yes, a surprise party," the henchman muttered. "The password is 'Scroogestinks', with a capital 'S' in Scrooge."

"And I am in!" Beaks cheered. "We cool, man? Cause I am going to where the food is. Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain a social media presence on an empty stomach? Oh, who am I kidding? With that receding hairline, you'd probably only have twenty followers tops."

Beaks walked away, his thumbs tapping at the screen.

"JUST PUT THE PHONE DOWN!" Glomgold roared. "YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE GRUESOMELY FOR THE LOVE OF HAGGIS! NOW PREPARE TO TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

He stopped, frowning and pushing a button on the phone to summon a repairman.

"You rang, sir?" a scrawny dog in overalls poked his head in. Glomgold grabbed his snout and threw him into the chair.

"This room doesn't have my thunder and lightning effects when I'm going 'MWAHAHAHA!'" Glomgold complained. "You see? Nothing! If this room doesn't have that wired by the time I come back from watching my second most hated enemy get his flesh melted in lava, I will see that you get thrown to RAVENOUS, MAN-EATING HOUNDS! Good day."

He grabbed Scrooge #187 and headed to his private jet, rubbing his hands gleefully.

Beaks was a complete idiot, but he would slowly realize there was no billionaire's convention with a little time.

* * *

Glomgold turned off the TV in the plane, curling up on the seat next to Scrooge #187.

"Scrooge, your worst habits are rubbing off on Beaks," Glomgold said. "I invested so much money into the buffet and what does Beaks do? Not drown his sorrows in delicious coconut shrimp! He barely looked at the food! All he said was something about trending and an Instagram, what is that, a breakfast cereal? What am I doing wrong here?"

Scrooge #187 said nothing, though a featherduster came off the side of his head.

Glomgold gasped. "Why, Scroogie! You're so terrified of me that your stupid feathercheeks are falling out! Let me get that for you-oops, clumsy me!" He ripped a few of the feathers out, stamping them into the floor. "THIS IS FOR NOT DYING SOONER! THIS IS REVENGE FOR THAT TIME YOU HUMILIATED ME IN FRONT OF THE PRESS! THIS IS FOR EVERY SECOND YOUR UGLY MUG EXISTS, THE LOT OF YOU!"

After several minutes of smashing everything in sight, he stepped on the TV remote. The screen flickered to life.

Glomgold's eyes widened. After four agonizing, painful hours, he had done it! He broke Beaks!

Beaks lay on the countertop by the shrimp, his phone resting face-down on his chest. He plucked one from the pile, tossing aside the tail.

"I can't believe this," Beaks said.

"YES!" Glomgold exclaimed.

Suddenly a grin crossed his face. "I have found those two on social media at long last!" Beaks smirked. "Prepare for flames!"

"WHAT?" Glomgold screamed. "NO! GORGE IN DESPAIR! YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE DOING A STUPID VICTORY DANCE!"

Outraged, he threw the remote through the screen, cracking it.

"You'd think someone would try to appreciate the effort I put into my plans," Glomgold scoffed to Scrooge #187.

* * *

At long last, the moment of triumph was in his grasp. "Well, well. If it isn't my second most hated person in the world," Glomgold declared. "You dared to be my competitor, and you shall pay for your transgress-hey, pay attention to your own demise! I don't see any agony!"

Beaks held his phone above the water, grabbing hold of the shark's fin. "Ha! Shark tank yolo!" he laughed. "I should totally get one of these babies for me!"

"Shark Guy! Why aren't the sharks attempting to feast on his remains?" Glomgold demanded.

Shark Guy shrugged. "I haven't gotten around to training these two for your evil schemes yet."

"WELL, GET ON IT THEN!" Glomgold roared, and Shark Guy cowered. "EAT HIM! CRUSH HIM! CHASE HIM OUT OF THE POOL UNTIL HE FALLS BLINDLY INTO THE LAVA!"

Next to him, Scrooge #187′s other featherduster fell off, dropping into the lava below. Beaks continued to take pictures with the sharks, completely oblivious to the lava he was supposed to die in.

"FINE! NOBODY LISTEN TO ME!" Glomgold snarled, lifting Scrooge #187 above his head. He might as well take what little victory he could get now. Before he could send Scrooge #187 to his doom, the railing broke and sent him plummeting to the molten rock below.

* * *

"I hate you. I hate you so much," Glomgold grumbled, folding his arms as best he could with the handcuffs.

"The feeling is mutual," Scrooge replied, a smug grin on his face. "You and Beaks were lucky Launchpad crashed through Krakatoa when he did."

Glomgold paid little attention to the sound of Donald's furious quacks at Beaks. Something about exploiting his boys at Waddle. He didn't really care.

Scrooge gestured to his practice dummy with his cane. "Losing your touch, Flinty. You just haven't been able to top the one made out of fool's gold."

"Shut up," Glomgold muttered.


End file.
